


Starlight

by Azaraethe



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Aglovale is a Power Bottom, Character Study, Comfort/Angst, Erotica, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaraethe/pseuds/Azaraethe
Summary: He buried his face into the King’s hair, scenting him - sharp, clean, and cold. Aglovale was like a frosted winter’s night, like glaciers, like starlight.Siegfried meets Aglovale for yet another night, and perhaps this moment might be what the knight wishes for.
Relationships: Siegfried/Aglovale (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my beloved N. You know who you are - sadly you have to wade through all the introspection to get to the good parts; but I hope this cheers you up and makes you happy!

Immaculately golden.

_And blandly laconic._

Siegfried’s eyes.

Aglovale startled, his fists curling under his pillows. He flipped his head back against the crumpled fabric, his lips parted and swollen from his own teeth marks. The hands that held his hips tightened, pulling the King’s ass back, fitting him against a too-warm, muscled stomach. 

He was urged forward as a slow, shallow thrusting started. 

Urged in a way Aglovale enjoyed - long, deep slides, pressing him down in deliberate wet slicks. The hands left his hips, stealing their way around his waist and reached for his erect cock. Callused thumbs rounded the damp head of his glans, rubbing in slow, thoughtful circles before fisting his erection roughly.

“Harder,” He heard himself demand. Kings did not plead - they ordered, and they took. And Siegfried always obeyed. Even if Aglovale had said it a thousand times. Even if he had not said anything and merely stayed silent. 

They called it a marriage of convenience in the past. 

But there was no marriage, only a convenience well-suited to the both of them. In the past three months, the knight did as he was told, and never did as he liked. Aglovale preferred relationships like this. 

Clean, unconditional, and absolute. He did not care if Siegfried was completely obliging - why would he not be? 

Aglovale did not want to deal with lovesickness or expectations. Courting, promises, and everlasting vows - such nemesis to an orderly life. He had no need for superfluous wanting.

Their relationship teetered on a delicate balance - not a power struggle, neither was it one borne of love nor mutual respect. 

It was plain, pure co-operation. Co-operation for sexual gratification.

Though, Aglovale did debate on that. It was only recently he had thought more about the sustainability of an association with Siegfried. He was honest with himself to the very least - he enjoyed the sex. The way Siegfried moved in him, and the lust that man could evoke was an experience no previous lover gave. The knight was a quick learner, and he learned to please the King through his own pleasure. 

But it maddened Aglovale to realize how his thoughts were starting to betray him. Even if he was addicted. At least, and as long as he remained unresponsive, sex was sex. 

And that was sufficient.

Aglovale’s breaths quickened. He raised himself on his forearms, his back raised towards the larger figure behind him. Siegfried's hands tentatively palmed the King's inner thighs, widening and spreading the blond man's legs.

The King’s eyes widened briefly, and a smile hinged at the edge of his thin lips. He laughed inwardly, thinking how Siegfried was attempting to use him for his _own_ pleasure. Amused, Aglovale allowed his body to go pliant and willing as he waited for the knight to make another move.

Maybe tonight, he would let Siegfried do what Siegfried liked.

Aglovale’s smile continued to ride enigmatically on his face, a smile pressed into the pillows, and never revealed for Siegfried’s eyes. Aglovale was curious about what the knight would do if he permitted a breach.

A low groan sounded above him as the pressure behind him, _in_ him, increased pleasingly. Siegfried took his time, stroking the cleft between Aglovale’s ass cheeks, rubbing his fingers down the seam of skin to where he was joined with him. He had sunk himself halfway, and he watched how his cock veined and swelled from that delightful friction.

Abruptly, Siegfried paused - the serein falling outside the windows drew his attention away for a moment, and a thought came to his mind. It was the ninetieth day since he arrived in Wales. And the thirty-sixth night in Aglovale’s bed. Siegfried wondered why he kept count of such numbers - perhaps they kept him sober to the reality of their relationship.

He returned his attention to the King upon the bed and leaned forth, curving a knuckle around the shell of Aglovale’s exposed ear. The skin was cold to touch, smooth to the roughness of his fingers. 

Another thought seeped into his mind, remembering how the invitation to sleep with the King came naturally enough.

Aglovale was forthcoming with his desire. And Siegfried was allowed an honest choice.

But Aglovale had always looked away. He looked everywhere else but behind him, or above him. The multiple times they had sex, Aglovale would watch the skies outside his bedroom windows, his lips snapped thin or parted in well-controlled gasps. 

Siegfried had never objected to what Aglovale did or wanted; of course, he was a simple man - genuinely satisfied to relieve himself with such a being of such tasteful physique, and the King’s bed was more than comfortable. Before this arrangement, his lust was usually dealt with plainly and quickly. Whether in the showers or alone by himself in the barracks. 

Lust had always been uncomplicated. But now he had grown conflicted. Perplexed.

He wanted more - wanted not just to impale himself entirely into the slick, soft hole offered to him. 

He wanted to spread his hands across that cold, lithe body, and inflict such tenacious pleasure that would break the King’s complacence.

He wanted Aglovale to look at him.

Siegfried contemplated their connected bodies and Aglovale’s earlier request. He splayed a scarred hand over the roundness of Aglovale’s raised backside, gripping the taut curve of the blond man’s rear.

“Will you be alright?” The knight had asked. 

The King was silent. He did not reply; neither did he acknowledge. Yet Siegfried seemed to know what the King’s reply would be. The knight too lapsed into a quiet, bemused state. 

His fingers started to trace the curvature of Aglovale’s spine, and he gathered the long lengths of pale gold, sweeping them away from the King’s back. Then he bent down, his lips pressed against the blond man’s shoulder blades. 

Aglovale closed his eyes, finding the sensation of thick, calloused fingers and wet warm lips stroking the expanse of his back suddenly intoxicating. There was a raw intensity in how Siegfried touched him - an intensity that swung through care, curiosity, and carnality. 

Aglovale had allowed it, permitted the knight to roam, to bite and to kiss every single part of his skin till both of them sank into delirious desire.

Siegfried never once raised a protest. He took and accepted each concession and every allowance, indulging himself fully when permission was granted. Only once did he transgress, and the knight had attempted to kiss the King’s lips. 

He was denied. Declined with glacial grace.

Not his lips. Aglovale had decreed like it was a kind of sacred ordinance. But he was a king, and kings were benevolent, and they were kind. Thus in all magnanimity, he conceded, allowing the knight to kiss his face. And Siegfried would kiss Aglovale’s forehead, and his cheeks and around King’s sealed mouth as if his very life depended on that.

For now, Siegfried stopped his kisses - he had made enough marks, his teeth bruising small, reddish nips down one half of the King’s back. His fingers worked themselves between the compressed bedsheets and the King’s heaving chest, thumbing and flicking Aglovale’s nipples. Occasionally, he would press his cock down, against the lower rim of the King’s asshole just to watch Aglovale twitch mutely and swallow cries of lust deep into his throat. 

Hips slowing down with an occasional jut, Siegfried laid down, his body covering Aglovale’s back, arms bracketing the King’s heaving body. They were still joined, warmness and wetness sliding between their thighs and legs, and they entertained a brief respite. He buried his face into the King’s hair, scenting him - sharp, clean, and cold. Aglovale was like a frosted winter’s night, like glaciers, like starlight.

Aglovale arched up, allowing the knight’s large hands to graze down the front of his throat and stroke his clavicles. It was a delightful position for him, sensuously surfeit.

Sex with Siegfried was good. 

Sex with Siegfried was satisfying.

A hygge for a fleeting escape.

His back was kissed for longer moments than usual, his hair possessively twisted into loose knots and plaits around Siegfried’s clenched fingers. His nape exposed and bitten, sharp nipping bites and kisses, each wetter than the first. 

He was gripped now, pulled up, settling down against the knight’s groin, his legs bent to a kneeling posture. Rough hands encircled his wrists, holding him in place. He was hilted with fierce fervor, the knight’s hard cock impaling deeply in savagely decadent thrusts. He felt himself contract in sinuous ripples around the knight’s swollen cock. Moans stripped his mouth, joined by a bevy of deep groans behind him. 

Fogged with sensations, he found himself flattened against the bed, crushed by the bulk of that heavily muscled body above him. Siegfried smelled fancy tonight - musky sandalwood redolent and suffused with the salty tang of his sweat. He must have bathed properly. The King laughed into his pillows, and his amusement was wrenched away by a tearing sensation, of Siegfried jerking himself completely out from Aglovale.

“You’re done?” Aglovale canted his head slightly, sweat-laced strands of gold sliding over his naked chest and shoulders. He was breathing shallowly from exertion, and his crimson eyes were still darkened with unspent lust. But if Siegfried was done, he was done as well. 

Siegfried kept quiet, and instead, he tilted his head as well, watching Aglovale with half-lidded eyes, lines of gold gleaming beneath umber lashes - purposeful, meaningful. Aglovale twisted around, laying his back on the bedsheets. He closed his eyes, stilling his breaths, his fingers arched above crumpled bed linen. His erection was still hard, and his balls tight, but he would find a time to soothe himself later.

“If you’re done, then leave.”

He heard a rustle of the bedsheets as the knight moved the bulk of his body close. Aglovale’s eyes lidded open, and he shifted himself, angling his body in a way he could just take another brief glance at Siegfried.

“You’re not leaving?” His voice held a scathing tinge. The King lowered his sights, checking the surface of the sheets where Siegfried was kneeling upon. The sheets, crushed and creased from their coupling, were dry. His eyes levered up, looking at the knight’s groin, at the thick hard length of Siegfried’s cock curving against a sparse trail of dark hair, the glans swollen and gleaming wet. 

Aglovale raised his knees. Spreading his legs, he arched each limb by Siegfried’s bent thighs. 

“If you’re not leaving, then continue. Finish it.” Aglovale ordered. 

He watched the ribbed muscles down the sides of Siegfried’s chest expand with a decisive breath, and the knight took hold of Aglovale’s knee, slipping one hand down the King’s thigh to part his leg widely. 

Aglovale’s expression was composed, impassive. He’d look at Siegfried the way he’d look at a collective of men in his throne room. The knight gripped his cock with his other hand and lowered to fit the damp head against the still-wet entrance. He slid in once more, unstopping until their hips met, and his balls sat heavily against Aglovale’s flesh.

“Finish it,” Aglovale instructed, and his hands lifted, slim fingers beckoning Siegfried to come close. And the knight obeyed, disconcerted, and mystified at being allowed into this space. 

He curved his body, an umbrella above the King’s body, and his head bent low towards Aglovale’s face. His forearms rested on the mattress, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Each lurch brought a frustrated breath rolled across Siegfried’s wet lower lip, and his hair hung in sweat-tinged strands. His lips parted constantly, his breaths turning hot and labored. 

The King’s eyes lidded, half-closed in pleasure, his legs lifting and clamping the knight’s muscled waist. Each lunge brought Siegfried’s face nearer to his, and their lips coming so intimately and dangerously close. His forearms rested by Aglovale’s face, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. But the knight steeled his arms, his muscles tautening as he kept his mouth poised above the King’s. And Aglovale watched denial contort Siegfried’s features, his amusement shielded by half-lidded eyes and golden lashes, reveling in this schadenfreude for a moment.

Aglovale was never a cruel King. Only that he had few emotions to give, and fewer to endorse. Love, being one of them. Love was a notion that intrigued Aglovale, but it remained a velleity.

Love required so much of a surplus, and he did not have that to give. His love was for Percival alone. But he could give affection - and he knew this man would be naturally happy with it. 

Aglovale rested his fingers on Siegfried’s jaw, tracing them down to his chin. He would not allow the knight to kiss him - but he would award this indulgence as he saw fit. And thus, Aglovale brought Siegfried’s lips to his. 

A kiss, a haughty one. A kiss that demanded and drew all of Siegfried’s strength from him. His fingers caught Siegfried’s jaw, holding his face immobile, and his tongue stroked the wet interior of the knight’s mouth. He growled at the invasion, grazing his teeth against the edge of the King’s mouth. Their teeth scraped against each other, and Aglovale’s mouth twitched with suppressed mirth.

Then, Aglovale laughed softly, throaty, and husky.

They drew apart, drawing sharp breaths, breaking the kiss at the same time, their mouths drenched wet, their lips both swollen and bitten. Heat washed their faces, and their cheeks flushed with a new lust for each other.

“Finish it, Siegfried,” Aglovale commanded, sinking back into his pillows. His tongue slipped from his lips, the tip touching where Siegfried bit him.

The King closed his eyes for a moment, a triumphant smile listing upon his mouth as his knight seized his hips.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing a lot on Aglovale these days and unfortunately or fortunately, I like it (no thank you to these -bad- friends who've been discussing plot hooks and ficlet possibilities among other naughtier things). So, I did mention earlier in another end-note that I would pair his Majesty with another, and I guess this would be one of the more popular pairings. There's a little smack of character study here, maybe more of Aglovale than Siegfried, the latter of which I think I'd write a lot on. There are a few canon characteristics and he'd seem to still behave slightly differently to various partners, which is interesting at any rate!
> 
> Some more thoughts from my ceaseless brain-fumbling about Aglovale in this writing - the way he views love and affection, his mannerisms, how he would smell (I love smells!), and his worldly view towards sex. (received with approval, yay!)
> 
> The plot points are provided by Noex. I'm just the deliverer of fancy words.


End file.
